


untitled sterek drabble

by wakanda



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Anxiety, Fighting (verbal), M/M, Military, Minor physical fighting I guess? Not in a problematic way though, Panic Attacks, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakanda/pseuds/wakanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles are dating and Derek sort of failed to mention he's in the military. Because he's Derek. </p>
<p>Stiles is pissed off. Because he's Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:
> 
> I don't know a lot about the military/what it means to be in it, so I'm sorry on any mistakes there! This is 100% fiction.
> 
> I've also never experienced a panic attack myself and am going off of what I've read and what I know from friends. My apologies on any unintended ignorance.
> 
> IMPORTANT: I have no idea where this is going, or if it is going anywhere! This work was not beta'd. I wanted to upload it to get some serious opinions on the idea and on my writing, so please do leave a comment and give kudos if you like it!

Stiles just sort of... looks at him. The shock is evident on his face, and he also kind of looks like he might cry, and Derek really hopes he won’t. He’ll crumble into a million pieces if Stiles starts crying. Derek then decides it’ll probably be easier to look at anything that is not Stiles, so he shifts his gaze, but that might hurt even more, because all he sees is empty wineglasses on Stiles’ kitchen table, where they just had a nice dinner. Derek is probably the biggest asshole in the world. Definitely, actually.

 

“You what?” Stiles asks, voice barely audible and unsteady. Derek just shrugs. It took him three whole months to tell Stiles, so he doesn’t think he can just say it again. Not when Stiles is looking at him like that. They were in the middle of doing the dishes when Derek just let it slip out, and Stiles is still holding a wet plate in his hand, but he seems to be unaware of it. Derek has taken a few steps back, because he can’t handle standing that close to Stiles when there’s such a clear expression of hurt on his face.

 

“Derek.” Stiles insists, a little louder this time.

 

“Repeating it won’t be good for anyone.” Derek replies weakly, looking down at his hands. His fight or flight reflex is telling him to _get the fuck out of here, now_ but he can’t leave Stiles like that.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Derek?” Stiles says frantically, and he’s definitely speaking louder now. “What, you think you can just, walk into my life and sweep me off my feet, and then three months later you think it might be about time to let me know you’re in the fucking military? That you’re being sent to Iraq in a few weeks?!”

 

Derek shrugs again. “I’m sorry.” he says quietly. He means it, but he’s not stupid enough to think it’ll be enough.

 

“Oh yeah, I guess that makes it all okay, Derek,” Stiles bites back, “it’s all fucking fine. I’m great. The guy I’m in love with might be dead in a few weeks, no biggie.”

 

And that… that just hits Derek in all the wrong places. “At least you’ll be the one alive!” Derek all but yells at him, “Have you ever considered that, Stiles? You’re not the one going out there! You’re not risking your life, _I_ am! Trying to stay alive during an ambush is not exactly a walk in the park!”

 

Stiles’ reaction to that is immediate. And it’s loud, too. “Death doesn’t happen to you, Derek!” he all but screams, throwing the wet plate back into the sink. “It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing around at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re going to live the rest of their lives now, without you in it!”

 

Derek notices how Stiles’ breathing has picked up, and his hands are shaking, too. He knows a panic attack when he sees one, has witnessed so many of them on his last mission, and takes a tentative step closer. “Stiles.” he breathes.

 

“No!” Stiles yells, stumbling back and bracing himself on the counter. “Don’t ‘Stiles’ me! If you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind! I’m guessing you lied about that scar on your stomach too! You said it was from surgery. I’ve always thought it looked kind of messy for that! What is it!”

 

Derek pauses for a brief moment, registering Stiles’ quick, jumbled talking and his heaving chest. “I got shot.” Derek replies carefully.

 

“Oh, you got shot.” Stiles retorts bitterly. He’s too out of breath to yell and Derek is really getting worried now. “No need to tell Stiles. Stupid gullible Stiles, let’s just lie and bullshit our way through this and see what happens. It’s all fucking fine.”

 

There are tears rolling down Stiles’ cheeks now, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His knuckles are white with how hard his gripping the counter and Derek knows it’s because he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Stiles.” he tries again. “You’re panicking. Take a breath.”

 

Stiles most definitely does not take a breath. Instead, he lets go of the counter and steps forward, balling his hands into fists and pounding them on Derek’s chest. “No shit I’m panicking! Get out!”

 

“Stiles, no, you’re…” Derek protests, but Stiles cuts him off.

 

“Out! Out out out get out.” he chants, and Derek really doesn’t want to listen but Stiles keeps hitting his chest and Derek thinks that staying might actually make it worse, so he lets Stiles back him up towards the door and slam it shut into his face.

 

+++

 

It’s probably some kind of miracle that Stiles makes it to the toilet in time to empty the contents his stomach. He wants to laugh bitterly at throwing up the dinner he worked so fucking hard on, but his lungs don’t feel like doing their god damn job right now and he can’t breathe, let alone laugh. So Stiles just slinks to the floor like the pathetic joke that he is. He wonders what being a grown up is like without panicking at stupid shit. Derek is stupid shit. Stiles hates him.

 

He loves him.

 

But he hates him so fucking much and Derek _lied_ to him, okay, right from the start their whole relationship was founded on one big fucking lie and there’s a realistic chance that Derek might die and Stiles can’t fucking _breathe_ and it burns in his chest and he might pass out if he doesn’t calm the fuck down right now.

 

_Stiles. Breathe. In and out. You can do it, c’mon buddy._

 

It’s not his own voice that Stiles hears in his head, it’s his dad’s, who helped him as soon as he realized the impact of Claudia’s death on Stiles’ anxiety. His dad always helped him through his panic attacks and taught him how to do it on his own too, in case no one was around to help. In and out. Stiles can do it. Breathe. He’s doing it. In and out.

 

And then he allows himself to cry.


	2. What is a Stiles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess I decided to throw in a quick part 1 throwback to how they met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please do comment and leave kudos!

_“What is a Stiles?”_

_Stiles pretends he doesn’t hear Scott snort behind him. Fuck Scott. Definitely not best friend material._

_Alright so, maybe this wasn’t the best way to approach The Finest Piece of Ass Stiles Has Seen All Month, but Stiles’ flirting skills are limited by his constant flailing and his general lack of the ability to use words in actual sentences. It’s just that in all his bartending days, he’s never seen a guy quite like this. Granted he has only had this job for a month, but still. This guy is a looker._

_He came in with a group of friends, all of them quite bulky – distraction alert –, and sat down with them at the table in the far corner of the bar. Said guy’s friends were being quite loud and seemed to be celebrating something, and although guy seemed to share some genuine smiles with his mates, he kept a bit more to himself. Which created the perfect opportunity for Stiles to start a stare-athon, that made him realize that Guy has kind eyes and the type of stubble people like Stiles want to rub their face on all day. Either way, Stiles has to have him._

_So when Guy came up to the bar to order drinks, Stiles decided that step one was introduction. Except he didn’t really go for a full sentence like “My name is…” No, nope. Just blurted out his name. Smooth. Hence Guy’s reaction: what is a Stiles? Stiles wish he knew the answer to that._

_“Stiles is my name.” he clarifies._

_Guy seems amused by that, if his slight smile and raised eyebrows are any indication. “Stiles?”_

_Scott speaks up behind him. “Well, actually, his real name is –“_

_“Stiles! His name is Stiles.” Stiles intersects. “We can stop saying it now.”_

_Guy chuckles a little. At least he thinks Stiles is funny. Or a complete embarrassment of a human being. It’s looking both ways. “Derek.”_

_“What is a Derek?” Stiles jokes. It’s funny, okay? Stiles is a funny guy. Hilarious._

_Guy – Derek – chuckles again. “Derek is a person who’d like to order a few beers.”_

_“Comin’ right up!” Scott says, getting up to serve Derek. Which leaves Stiles standing awkwardly in front of him._

_Stiles fumbles with the hem of his shirt. “You guys celebrating something then?” he asks when nothing else comes to mind._

_Derek seems to contemplate for a second, like he’s still deciding whether this is a celebration or not. “I guess you could say that.” he answers. “It’s not really that interesting.”_

_“Seems more interesting than the couple over there eating each other’s faces. Like, literally.” Like, literally? Stiles is apparently channeling his inner white girl. Charming._

_Derek smiles at him. “They’re young and in love,” he comments, “let them have their happiness, Stiles.”_

_Stiles wants Derek to say his name all night, but then Scott is done serving him, Derek pays, and he’s back sitting with his friends._

_Scott shoots Stiles a look. “You’re aiming high today.”_

_Stiles tries to look offended. “Are you saying he’s out of my league??” he asks, scandalized. Stiles is a very eligible bachelor, alright. No one is out of his league._

_“Yeah kind of. But then again you knew that.” Scott replies, smiling. Stiles should put an ad in the paper for a new best friend._

_Derek remains at his table for the rest of the night, his friends taking turns ordering drinks at the bar. Stiles doesn’t sulk about this at all because he is a grown up. Legally. Derek does throw him a kind “Bye, Stiles!” when they’re leaving though so Stiles will take that consolation price._

_Stiles thinks about Derek all week and masturbates to the thought of him more times than he’d like to admit. Every single night he has to work, he hopes that Derek and his friends will show up again, but no luck. Meanwhile Scott is busy being grossly in love with Allison, even taking a night off to take her on a romantic date. Gross._

_It also happens to be the night that Derek shows up at the bar again. Alone._

_No one is out of Stiles’ league._


End file.
